


Process

by FaintlyMacabre



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Internal Monologue, Juno's doing his best, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Outer Space, That Talk, but not the way you think, not enough beds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintlyMacabre/pseuds/FaintlyMacabre
Summary: Juno's adjusting to life in space with the crime family. Some adjustments are easier than others.





	Process

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaggedwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaggedwolf/gifts).

> I started writing this as soon as I got the assignment and I've been having a great time! Although I listened to 03.01, I've incorporated very little into it, as I turned out to be almost entirely wrong about how the season would start! Not that this was a prediction, exactly? Anyway. Happy Halloween!

I know I must’ve walked up the gangplank and onto the ship because I think I would’ve remembered Jet picking me up and carrying me in like he did Rita’s suitcase, but I don’t remember my feet touching down once. And then we were buckling in and leaving the surface of Mars behind us, the only home I’d ever had... well, Oldtown didn’t exist anymore, and Hyperion City was getting smaller, all the petty and not so petty criminals, every injustice in its streets just disappearing below us. Soon it was just a shining city on a red planet. Admittedly I only saw it in the brief glimpses I could stand to take between long, luxurious gazes at the inside of my eyelid, but… I could almost understand what other people saw in it now.

And that’s when it occurred to me that I was still looking (and not looking) out at this planet I’d already seen, had already decided to leave, rather than at him. Which seemed stupid; I’d been missing that smug face ever since—

Ever since I left him asleep in that hotel room. Without a word of explanation. Maybe that was something I needed to work on.

You might never see this dumb planet ever again, I told myself. You’ll regret looking away now. And what, are you just going to crane your neck around like an idiot and hope you don’t throw up? You’re not just scared of looking him in the eye.

So I didn’t.

By the time it was safe to stand, Mars could have been just another star in space and I could almost believe myself. I pried my fingers off the armrests and turned to see Nureyev disappearing through a doorway. Which was fine. I mean, there were only so many of us on this ship, and only so much room, and if he didn’t want to talk to me it was probably good to take the opportunity to be elsewhere while he could. So I just stood there until Vespa said,

“Do you wanna say something, Steel, or are you just here to lurk over my shoulder?” Pretty sure those were the first words she’d said directly to me since our little stabbing. I could see her reflection in the window, her shock of green hair a starburst against the darkness of space as she flew the ship with practiced ease.

“Gimme a break,” I said. “I’ve never been on a ship before. And, and what about you, huh?” I looked at Buddy, knowing it was a dead-end argument.

“It’s not lurking if it’s your ship, darling. Besides, she likes it when I lurk.” Buddy smiled when Vespa reached out without looking and took her hand. Aaaand I was definitely third-wheeling now. I went out the door Nureyev hadn’t gone through.

I’d been pretty sure this wasn’t the door he’d gone through.

“Oh, Juno,” Nureyev said, glancing over at me like he’d forgotten I existed, or maybe just wanted to. “Did you need something?”

“No, I.” My mouth was so dry, when did it get so dry? “Sorry.” I backed out and slunk back through the observation deck, trying not to lurk, and through the other door.

“Mistah Steel!” Rita appeared as though out of nowhere, but really I just hadn’t been paying attention. “This is so neat, isn’t it? I ain’t ever been on a spaceship before! Jet says I get to check out the ship’s computer as soon as we’re on autopilot—”

“You are actually required to check out the ship’s computer as soon as we are on autopilot.” Him, I saw coming. Hard not to. “It is one of your main duties as a crewmember.”

“Didja hear that, Mistah Steel? I’m a _crewmember _now!” Rita crowed. “And you are too! And oh, isn’t this so exciting, boss? Well, I mean—” Her brow furrowed. “You know how I feel about calling you by your first name—”

“Yep.”

“—and you know how we both got the same boss now—”

“Buddy is the boss.”

“Yeah, yeah, big guy, that’s been made abundantly clear.” It hadn’t, actually; Buddy had been the one to hire us, and Jet clearly took his orders from her, but I wasn’t totally sure where in the hierarchy Nureyev fit, other than “higher than me.” When the big guy picked us up, he said Buddy wasn’t the only one who had a “vested interest” in me; at the time, I thought he meant himself, but he hadn’t even told me his name at that point. So either that was his idea of a joke or he was talking about… For that matter, I didn’t know what name Nureyev was going by these days, and I couldn’t think of a way to ask someone else without being weird.

“Oh, but I could call her Captain!” Rita was saying. “Captain Buddy, or Captain Aurinko, or just Captain.”

“That would also be accurate,” he said in that same measured baritone. It was making me tired.

“Hey, uh, Jet.” It was still weird knowing Big Guy had a name. “I’m kinda beat, any way I could see my way to my room? Or literally any horizontal surface that’s not somewhere people are gonna step on the way to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Mistah Steel…” Rita had that look that usually meant she’d broken some crucial piece of evidence… or that she knew something I _really _wasn’t going to like.

“What.”

“You do not have your own room, Juno. The ship is only large enough for four bedrooms.”

Four. So one for Buddy and Vespa, one for Rita, one for Jet, and— oh no.

“You’ve gotta be goddamn kidding me.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but— they had to be goddamn kidding me! Of course, of _course _I was rooming with—

“I also do not have my own room,” Jet said. “Do not worry, I will take whichever bunk you do not want. I am not picky.”

Good, because now I was even more tired.

“Mistah Steel,” Rita stage whispered when Jet had dropped me at the door of our (ugh) room, “that man on the car, that was _Agent_ Glass, right?”

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” I said, scrubbing a hand over my face. “You know he’s not really an agent, right? And ‘Glass’ is a fake name?”

“Well, yeah, boss,” she said with an eyeroll. “I know, but that’s the name he gave when we were boardin' the ship— didn't you hear him?" I hadn't. "So he used the same name when he was pretending to be from Dark Matters— well, I guess he really was, kinda, but why would he use the same name now? What do you suppose he’s doing here? And why do we need a car on a spaceship.”

“I don't know. Crime. And, I don't know." I sighed. "I meant it, Rita, I am so, so tired, and I really need a good night's sleep without thinking about 'Glass' and how he gets about that dumb car."

“Okay, sure, but— Wait. 'How he _gets_?' Mistah Steel, do you know someth— have you been see_ing him_?”Her pitch rose over her question until I wasn’t really sure she hadn’t gone too high for me to hear.

“Good night, Rita.” I slid the door open, stumbled in and pulled it closed behind me.

“Mistah Steel, that’s not a no!”

“Go away, I’m asleep!”

I heard her huff and stamp, and then her footsteps got quieter and quieter until they were gone. Huh. That actually worked better than I’d expected it to.

Obviously I took the bottom bunk. Maybe fear of heights in space was stupid, but the ship’s internal gravity was basically indistinguishable from gravity on Mars. My body wasn’t going to know the difference when I fell out of bed in my sleep. Also I was trying really hard not to think about how falling six feet onto a solid floor was about the least dire thing that could go wrong in space. I was really hoping this experience didn’t give me either claustrophobia or agoraphobia.

It was night, or I guess had been night when we took off, so now— I didn’t know what time meant out here. And what about when we landed, on whatever world we landed on? Would we prepare on the ship, try to change our sleep schedule ahead of time? Was it such an essential part of the makeup of the seasoned interstellar criminal to have no need for time and keeping it that no one had thought to mention it to me? Or Rita. Then again, she was probably hanging out with her new best friend Jet right now and he was probably explaining everything else he hadn't felt like telling me and then they were probably going to watch her favorite streams and I bet _he’d _stay awake through all of _Werewolves in Orbit _and…

Wow, I got kind of petty there. Which one of them was I even jealous of?

Honestly, I was kind of jealous of all of them: Buddy, Vespa, and Jet for already being a team, Buddy and Vespa for having each other, Jet and Rita for having connected so quickly, Nureyev for, well, clearly being fine about this whole thing. Apparently.

It was good, that he was fine. More than good, it was great, hey, good for him! He deserved to be. Nothing like what I deserved for what I did. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten me, so that was… something. Had he tried to?

But I didn’t get to ask that, I reminded myself. It was my screw-up, and now I just had to live with the fallout like everyone else. And if I didn’t think I could do that, I could at least get to sleep.

I could… _sleep_.

Sleep, goddamn it.

The bunk was narrower than my bed back on Mars, and I kept hitting or kicking the wall. I’d had no idea how much I moved in my sleep, hadn’t had anyone to witness _that _for a real long time. It felt like every time I managed to drift off I’d wake myself up a minute later when one of my limbs struck metal. Seemed like my only hope was to thrash around until I passed out from exhaustion. Or knock myself out on the wall. Scratch that, I doubted I could afford more than a few more concussions and I was saving them for something special.

After what felt like hours but might have been just one, I heard the door slide open and automatically played dead. I doubted the big guy was going to talk my ear off but at this point I could barely stand my own company, two was definitely going to be a crowd. And I hadn’t shared a room since Ben, I wasn’t overjoyed to share one with _Jet Sikuliaq_.

“Are you awake?” he said. After a few seconds, I heard rustling and then the sound of someone climbing up to the top bunk, a little more rustling as he settled in. Then, nothing. Then, “Good night, Juno.” And something about that was kind of… nice.

After a few days, I started getting used to it: the bed, the lack of external time markers, being inside all the time, living this closely with other people. Avoiding someone I wished I didn’t have to avoid while trapped on the same ship with him.

And I actually… ate breakfast now? Actually got up early, or, well, before anyone else. Because when I woke up to the hum of the ship I couldn’t just fall asleep again to the complete absence of screaming, gunshots, the couple upstairs absolutely destroying their bed. I mean this was better, obviously. Objectively.

It’s just that I couldn’t sleep, was the thing. Once upon a time, I’d go without sleep on purpose—just replace it with coffee and cigarettes and work, and then later to reverse the effects I’d just drink myself into a stupor, easy peasy. But I didn't have much with me and Buddy had made it clear that she hadn’t packed the cheap stuff and it was absolutely not to be used to induce stupor, or something.

“You can spend your creds however you want when we land, Juno,” she’d said. “But go on a bender with these and you may not live to regret it, understood?”

“Understood,” I’d said, nonetheless making a note of where she stashed them. You never know when you might need an emergency bender.

Anyway, I was trying to get better, and maybe part of that could be laying off my liver a bit. Even if it wasn’t totally on my own terms. So.

Breakfast.

It was actually kind of nice, you know? Like maybe it was too quiet to sleep, but once I was awake it was all mine, just for a little bit. It made me feel like this could be my life, and not one I was stuck with. Something peaceful. Something comfortable.

“Good morning, Juno.” I jumped out of my skin, spilling cereal on the counter. “Sleep well?”

“About as well as can be expected in a bunk bed, I guess.” He was talking to me, which seemed like a good sign, even if it was while my hair was all smooshed over to one side and my mouth felt and tasted like a dead cat.

He, of course, looked perfect.

“Ah, yes, you’re rooming with Jet. Who’s on top?”

“He is,” I answered, like an idiot, before I could think not to.

That stupid, perfect grin just widened. “_Really_.”

You know, I don’t know if it was his presence here in my space after being apart for a year, or just the complete lack of surprise in his voice that made my face burn. I don’t know if he could see me blush, but I turned away anyway. “Fuck off.”

“As you wish.” He brushed past me on the way out, and I told myself it was the displacement of the air that made me shiver, and not that cologne.

When I realized Hyperion wasn’t my city anymore, I thought everything would change. I thought it had to. I mean, I was leaping into the unknown, answering to someone else for the first time since the HCPD, running to the other side of the law, hell, running straight off the edge of the damn planet for the first time in my life. And yeah, I was trying to get better, but no small part of me wondered if the only way to do that at this point was to erase myself and start over. I knew who Juno Steel had been, had spent most of my life hating him. Maybe I could hate him enough to fix him, to make sure nothing of him survived to choke out my future.

I thought about this as I stood at the ship’s single burner stovetop, making my signature kind-of-like-alfredo sauce.

“Tell me the truth, Buddy,” I said when she came in, “is this why you hired me?”

“The cook’s an important part of the crew, Juno,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, and added the pasta to the pot. It was sort of comforting, going through the same motions I had a million times alone in my apartment, except that now I wasn’t alone. And I was making so, so much more pasta. I breathed in the steam, letting my new surroundings attach to my sense memories. I tried to remember that if I destroyed myself, I’d have no foundation when I tried to rebuild. I tried to remind myself that I was worth more alive.

“Ow!” I was so caught up in trying not to be a self-destructive idiot that I grazed the metal with my hand. I automatically stuck my fingers in my mouth and turned away from the stove… only to lock eyes with Nureyev. Only, it wasn’t really Nureyev: it was Glass.

“Careful, Juno,” he said, breaking eye contact first. “Although, with the number of scars I’ve seen on you, that spaceship may have sailed.”

My face heated up even more as he started taking bowls out of the cabinet next to me with a small smile. Hey, well, at least if he didn’t want to have a conversation he was still getting something out of making me squirm.

“Hey, boss, careful, or that’s gonna burn.” Once again, Rita was saving me from myself. I resumed stirring and lowered the heat under the pot, but it was just about done anyway. Now all that was left to do was sit through a whole dinner with Nureyev, or Glass, or whoever he decided to be for the next hour. Easy.

He chose a seat as far away from me as it was possible to be and I didn’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, yeah, I didn’t want to look at him either—if I had to sit near him I’d probably forget how to eat—but on the other I wanted _so much _for him to look at me. I stared down into my pasta so intently that if I’d still had the THEIA I probably could have bored a hole in the table in a few seconds. I didn’t hear the conversation going on around me, if there was one, but once or twice I swore I could feel eyes on me from a far place at the table.

After dinner, Buddy called us to the observation deck. I was weirdly glad we didn’t have a designated meeting room—it at least kept me from being more bitter about having to share a bedroom.

“Our next job starts on Io.”

“’Starts?’”

“Yes, Juno, I’m afraid I’m rather throwing you into the deep end with this one.” Buddy’s words sounded apologetic, but her tone didn’t. Oh, well. “Each stage of the job will take us increasingly farther into the Outer Rim, until we reach our ultimate destination on Brahma.” My eye automatically flicked over to Nureyev, but if he felt anything about this information I couldn’t tell. He was slouching ever so slightly in his seat, looking relaxed but focused on Buddy. I reminded myself to do the same.

“No one’s going it alone on this one, however,” Buddy was saying. “Vespa and I will remain with the ship to monitor your progress and collect you early if necessary.” She put her hand on Vespa’s shoulder while she spoke, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it, and I envied them that. The easy knowledge that the other would be there when they reached out.

“…leaves Juno and Rex.”

I snapped to attention. “What?”

“Pay attention, dear,” Buddy said. “You two will be conducting the actual infiltration. I’ll be giving you a map of the complex, and you will act as backup for Rex while he retrieves the relic.”

I wanted to protest, but what good would that do? It made sense: the captain with the pilot, the heavy with the hacker, the bodyguard with the thief. An oversimplification? Sure, but the teams worked out like this. And I figured if I wasn't a detective anymore, bodyguard was close enough. I’d been working on my shooting, and even though I was nowhere near my former abilities, I could still throw a mean punch. The question was, did Nureyev even trust me anymore? He knew I was competent, but I'd already let him down once. He looked over at me, expressionless. I made myself hold his gaze and nod. “Understood.”

“Good,” Buddy said. “Now if there’s no other immediate business to conduct, I suggest we all retire to study the information I’ve sent to your comms and get some rest. We have one full day to prepare before we land, and I want you all in tip top, got it?”

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him if he was okay, if he was going to be okay returning to the place that reminded him of the father he’d killed, and of the one he’d never had. I wanted him to know that… I don’t know. That he had me. To talk to. If he wanted.

Not that he did—I just about caught a glimpse of the hem of his robe disappearing through one of the doors.

“Good morning, Juno.” I was struck with a sense of déjà vu; this was nearly exactly what had happened a couple days ago. I was in the kitchen, trying to grab breakfast, and then _he _snuck up behind me cool as you please.

“I swear I’m going to get you a damn bell, Glass.”

“I always appreciate gifts, Juno, but how you’d get me to wear it, now _that _I’d like to see.”

I wasn’t even sure what his remark was suggestive _of_, but try telling that to my stupid, traitorous, blushing face. I tried to hide in a cabinet under the pretense of looking for coffee.

"I know you don't want to talk to me, but we are going to be working closely together on this job, and I'd like to think we can... make casual conversation, at least.”

I narrowly avoided hitting my head on a shelf. "_I _don't want to talk to _you?" _I couldn't believe it. "What reason could you possibly have to want to talk to _me_?"

"Oh, you think I don't have anything to say to you?"

“Okay, when you put it like that—”

“We’re not doing this here.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me through the ship, his long, delicate looking fingers belying the strength in them. We didn’t walk for long (not a lot of ship) before he was pulling me through a doorway I hadn’t seen yet. His bedroom.

“I’ve tried staying out of your way, I’ve tried using an alias you’re used to, and I think I’ve quite finished trying to make you comfortable.”

"'Comfortable?' The only times you'll even acknowledge me you deliberately—"

“I think it’s about time we talked. Properly." Glass was gone and I was looking at Peter Nureyev, beautiful and furious. "Would you like to start or should I?”

“I—”

“No, actually, I think I’d like to start. You left. After I offered you the universe, after you told me that going with me was what you wanted. After I made my feelings about you perfectly clear. I trusted you to tell me the truth, and if you did, you chose the worst possible time to change your mind. The worst possible way to leave. After all we’d been through together, that hurt. _You hurt me._ It would hurt if we _hadn’t _gone through what we did. I’d like to think I at least deserved not to find out that way.”

“You deserved so much more than that. Nureyev—”

“Before you say anything else, Juno, I’d like you to consider that while I would like an explanation—no, I rather think I _require _an explanation—I cannot brook excuses.”

“Right.” I wanted to say it and I didn’t. I’d been going over and over what I'd tell him if I ever got the chance, and none of the versions I’d come up with were entirely right. I flashed back to Ramses’s body, surrounded by potential conversations we’d never have. Better settle in and get comfy, I guessed.

“There’s a chair behind you,” he said when I unintentionally glanced at the bed. He was standing against the wall, his hands flat on the metal, like he was drawing strength from it.

I sat down, elbows on my knees, head bowed, not sure if by preventing eye contact I was trying to spare him or myself. Six of one, I guess. “I was really messed up, Nureyev. I had been for a while. Not an excuse, just the beginning of my explanation,” I said when I heard Nureyev draw in a breath. “In the tomb with Miasma, I thought I was going to die, and that didn’t scare me. It was a relief. I thought with all the mistakes I'd made, I could finally balance the scales. I could finally make my life worth something.

“I didn’t lie to you, in the tomb. In a moment when there was nothing more I could do, where there were no other responsibilities to weigh on me, the thought of going away with you was the happiest one I could muster. I’d thought about it before, but never for too long, never saw it as a possibility. In that moment, it was just as possible as anything else, and I wanted it. So badly it hurt. And then I didn’t die, and the weight of everything settled back down on me. 

“Regardless of how I felt, what I wanted, I belonged to Hyperion City and it was my responsibility. That’s what I thought, anyway. And—” I stopped before I could start in on the past year, what I’d gone through, what I’d done. “No. That’s not part of the explanation. I do still want to tell you about it, after, if you, um. If you want.” I looked up at him then, hoping for some kind of assent. He just looked at me, gaze steady, but no expression on his face. _Right, better get back to it._

“When you asked me at the hotel to go away with you, I said yes because I wanted it to be that simple, and if I said yes then maybe I could convince myself that it was. And wouldn’t you know, I’m just not that convincing. I left the way I did because I knew I’d screw it up and hurt you somewhere down the line, and I thought it was better to get it out of the way. To get out of your life before you got too used to having me around. And I left the way I did because I knew if I waited until you were awake, I’d either leave Mars with you and forever feel like I’d abandoned it, or I’d have to see your face when I said I couldn’t go with you, and I couldn’t take either of those possibilities.

“I hurt you, and I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway. I’m so sorry, Nureyev. Peter. I don’t know if I can ever make it up to you but god, I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

There was a long moment filled with just the hum of the ship. I’d talked long enough, said everything he’d asked to hear, so if he could just _say something_.

_Say something._

But he didn’t, so I did. Maybe if no one had ever asked me to talk, it was just because they couldn't get a word in edgewise.

“And maybe that's all you can stand to hear from me for the foreseeable future, I get that. But for the first time, I want to get better, and I think I can do it. At any rate, I want to be someone you can rely on, not to make the dumb self-sacrifice no one asked for, but to have your back, to talk to if you want—”

“Is this what you wanted to tell me 'after?'” I nearly collapsed from the relief of finally, finally hearing his voice. Now he looked like he was fighting to keep a neutral expression, but it was a battle he might lose any second.

“I mean, kinda,” I said. “There’s a lot: I got involved in politics, I either proved or debunked a conspiracy theory, depending on your perspective, and then there were the mind control robots, but that other thing was just kind of my closing statement, just in case.”

"_You_ got into politics?" His mouth was curling up on one side, and even if he was fighting it, it felt so good to see him smile not as Rex Glass but as Peter Nureyev.

"_That's_ the part that surprises you?"

"To be perfectly honest, Juno, that's the last career path I would have pegged for you."

"It sounds more public-facing than it was," I said. "If any babies were kissed, I wasn't there to see it."

"What else?"

"I mean I guess technically most of the time I was on this fake stakeout, but it did get kind of wild—"

"I meant, I know you didn't just want to talk about your career."

I didn’t want to lose that smile now that I’d just gotten it back. “If casual conversation is what you’re after, this is the wrong topic.”

“I think we left that behind a while ago, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I took a deep breath. “In between the politics and the ill-advised investigations, I faced things I hadn’t had to think about in a long time. Things that I’d buried, but that had shaped a lot about me: how I saw the world, how I saw myself. My mom’s downward spiral, my brother’s murder, the trust I put in someone—the same someone, twice—who ripped the world apart. It got hairy, and I got worse, for a while. But then I started getting better. And I’ll never stop being sorry for leaving you, but I don’t think I could have started to heal like that anywhere but Mars. Maybe after a while, I could have pushed it down even further, but for the first time in my life I feel like maybe I won’t ruin everything just by virtue of being me. I don’t want to throw myself away anymore. And I’ve started to consider how my behavior affects the people around me, people I care about. I don’t want to hurt them—I don’t want to hurt you again. I’m sure I will, because that’s just part of being a person around other people, but I’m going to try my hardest not to. And definitely not in the ways I have already. You don’t owe me anything. If, after this, you just want to be Rex Glass to me, I’ll respect that. I’d understand.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” I said.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, and smooth as silk. Not in a put on way, but just in the way that his voice couldn't help being. “So what do you want?”

“I want—" My voice broke and I cleared my throat. I had to say this; he had to know this was the truth. "I want you.”

“Juno.”

“And I know that might not mean anything. It doesn’t have to.”

“How could it not mean anything?" He pushed off from the wall and for a second I wasn't sure if he was going to kiss me or strangle me. Turned out I was wrong on both counts. "It wasn't just a whim, offering you everything I had, everything I was. I didn't know what the future held, but I knew I wanted to see it with you." He sagged back against the wall. "That city was killing you, and I saw how reluctant you were to leave it but I thought, if I can just get him away from there he'll be all right. If I can just show him what the universe has to offer, that life doesn't have to be working yourself to death in a place that tramples anyone not strong enough to fight back... I thought I could help."

"You did. You did help. God, Nureyev, those two days with you when we were trying to catch that damn train were the happiest I’d had in a long time—”

“You sulked almost constantly.”

I had to laugh a little at that. “Yeah, yeah I did. That tells you something, right?”

He laughed too, and I realized how much I’d missed that. Then he cut himself off with a sigh. “I didn’t know what you needed. I tacked an ultimatum onto the end of a traumatic event.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s certainly not my fault that you lied to me.” I winced. “But I saw the place meant something to you. I’ve found a quick exit to be an effective solution to nearly every problem I’ve encountered in my long and storied career. I thought if you trusted me to do this for you, it would work.”

“I did trust you, Nureyev.” _I still do._ “It was me I didn’t trust.”

“Would you let me finish?” Then his voice softened. “It wasn’t about whether or not you trusted me. It was about what I thought was best, and what I did about it, and whether or not it really was the best thing for you. I know now that you couldn’t have left, but I didn’t consider the possibility that night. All I could think of was the bright future spread out before us and diving into it as soon as possible. I thought of what had helped me, and assumed the same would be good for you. Foolish. I should have realized we were far too different for the same solution.”

“I mean, for that particular thing, yeah,” I said. “Neither of us were in any kind of state to be making big life changes, or in any state to think about all sides of the situation. Leaving was how you dealt with problems and burying myself in my work was how I did. And being here now doesn’t make any of that go away, I know that. I didn’t tell Rita about how and why I’d disappeared for months, thinking that if I didn’t think about it, I could make it not matter. But nothing stays buried forever. We dealt with it in the ways we knew, but maybe that wasn’t enough. I’m not going to tell you what to do or what it means because I’m just making this up as I go, but maybe we can… actually talk about stuff?”

“Is that not what we’re doing?”

“No, that’s what I mean! This, this right here, maybe this is better for us than what we’ve been doing. Maybe it’s not enough for you to keep everything locked down and act like you’re fine. Maybe it’s— no, I _know _it’s not enough for me to assume everything’s hard and cruel and that’s just the way life is and to survive I should be that way, too. I’ve seen things that I thought had broken me, but I’ve finally realized that I don’t have to _stay_ broken! I’ve seen things I never thought were possible: I’ve seen people be brave without going brittle, I’ve seen people try again and _win _when the odds were never on their side. I’ve—” It was sticking in my throat, but I needed to say it. Maybe it would help and maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would be the thing that made Peter Nureyev decide that this wouldn’t be our last real conversation. “I’ve seen you come back, when I didn’t expect or deserve it, and hell, that on its own would have been enough to convince me that life’s not out to get me, if I hadn’t decided that already.”

This was scary, but I wasn’t scared. It was like I was made of air and light, my fingertips tingling and my lungs full. I felt like the most alive thing in the void of space.

“If you think I’m full of it, I get it. I don’t blame you. When we get to Io, I’ll have your back, no matter what you say to me now. I’ll have your back for as long as you want me to. And if you want me out of your room right this second, I’ll go. But I’m glad I got to say all of this to you, so, thanks for dragging me in here.” He exhaled sharply, like either his brain or his body had wanted to laugh but didn’t tell the other. “And thank you for, you know, hearing me out. It’s more than I deserved.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t deserve a chance to talk.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and they came away wet. God, I wanted to hold him. “I thought of so many ways this could have gone, but I didn’t see this one coming.”

“Is it too much to hope it was a good surprise?”

“No, not too much to hope for that,” he said with something like a smile around his eyes. “This is… a lot, Juno.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“And you’re leaving it up to me to decide whether or not—what, we get back together?”

“No, no more ultimatums,” I said. He flinched. “I don’t mean that as— I just mean, maybe when it’s something that concerns both of us, we talk about it instead of just deciding there are only two ways it could go and what those two ways are.”

“I think I need to think about this.”

“Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need.” I guess I should have been grateful that my stomach waited that long to interrupt with a stupidly loud grumble. At least it made him laugh. “I think that’s my cue. When you—if you want to talk, you uh, you know where to find me.” I gestured around us at the ship.

“Yes, I do. Thank you for—thank you, Juno.”

I gave him one last smile, one I hoped wasn’t really the last, and left.

I’d meant what I’d said to him: I’d give him all the time he needed to think. I owed him that, and I didn’t begrudge it, or him. But I’ve never been great at waiting. For the rest of the day I cycled through reading the info Buddy had sent me, reorganizing my things, and opening and closing all the cabinets in the kitchen one by one without really seeing what was inside. Despite all this, I didn’t get really worried until everyone but Nureyev showed up to dinner.

“Rex said not to wait for him,” Buddy said casually, and I made myself nod along with everyone else like I wasn’t crawling out of my skin.

I didn’t see him again until we were waiting by the car—not the Ruby 7, the other one, the one that didn’t scream, “Ask me about all the crimes I’ve committed this week.” We were supposed to take it down to the surface with Jet and Rita, but when I got to the hangar, Nureyev was the only one there. He looked nervous, and I wondered if it was just about the job until I remembered who I was looking at.

“Juno, I.” He cleared his throat and I waited. “I’ve been thinking and—” My stomach dropped and I reminded myself that it was okay, if he said no we’d both survive. “It’s been a long time since I admitted this to anyone, about anything. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of wanting you, and I’m afraid of getting hurt again, and of losing you, or myself. I know this isn’t the best time—”

“Hey, it could be the only time,” I said. He glared at me. “Sorry, bad joke. I’ll stop interrupting.”

He sighed. “I’ve missed you so much it hurt. I never stopped. And when I think of living on the same ship as you and forcing myself to keep missing you… I think I’m done torturing myself.”

“Good!” There was that lightness again, tingling fingertips. “I mean, yeah! Okay, yes.” I didn’t know what I was saying really, but I was pretty sure I felt good about it.

“I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.”

“No, neither do I. I’m just—I’m really happy that you want to give this a shot.”

“Or to rush into things.”

“Sounds good.” I couldn’t get the big, dumb grin off my face, but I didn’t even care.

“So, if you want to, then…” He took a breath and smiled, nothing big and showy, a little tentative, but genuine. “I’d like to try again.”

“So would I,” I said, and stepped closer, but stopped myself before I got maybe too close. “Not to rush, seriously, but assuming Jet and Rita ever get here and we do end up getting to the job, how about a good luck kiss?”

“Sounds important,” he said, his smile widening, and he closed the last of the distance between us. Kissing him in the cold air of the ship, I remembered the first kiss in my apartment, meant but mostly a distraction. This one got to be just a kiss.

Not that it wasn’t distracting.

“Are you two done kissing in there?” Rita’s voice rang out from the doorway. “We’re gonna be late!”

Nureyev stepped back, his face pink, grinning. “If we hadn’t been, Rita, your question would have effectively killed the mood.”

“I believe that was the point,” Jet said as they walked into the hangar. But you know? I don’t know if it would have. The lightness hadn’t left me, and Nureyev hadn’t stopped smiling.

Yeah, I thought. I could get used to this.


End file.
